Picking Up The Pieces
by Amandah Leigh
Summary: HGDM with shades of ADMM Sad, but romantic, little fic about what happened after the final battle. Hogwarts has been destroyed and Draco a Death Eater and Hermione An Auror are Picking Up The Pieces. COMPLETE finally not HBP cannon
1. Picking Up The Pieces

Chapter One: Picking Up The Peices

The Final Battle left many dead. Harry was gone, disapeared, missing. Dumbledore was gone too, dead, murdered. Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Neville Longbottom, George Weasley, Madam Bones, Olympe Maxime, Remus Lupin, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Crabbe senior and Crabbe junior, Katie Bell and Lee Jordan. All dead.

Many others had been tortured to the point of madness, Ginny, Molly, Bill and Arthur Weasley among them, along with Colin Creevey, Luna Lovegood, Arabella Figg, Nymphadora Tonks, Poppy Pomfrey...even tiny little Profeser Flitwick.

Ron Weasley had committed suicide shortly after his premature release from St. Mungos.

And Hermione was left all alone.

Hogwarts, barely standing, was but a shell of what it once was. No longer a beautiful, strong, sprawling castle, it was in ruins, falling down, still smoking and smoldering in some areas, the tallest towers reduced to small pathetic piles of debris.

It was here that Hermione came, three months after the Final Battle, the only pl;ace she felt she could go to begin proper mourning. She walked slowly and carefully around the rubble, collecting various items she could find in a pouch. So far she had two remebrals, charred black but working nontheless, a half dozen Quills, three Chocolate Frog cards, (Albus Dumbledore's face was missing from his), a small gold plaque engraved with the words 'The Mirror of Erised', and one of the bathroom faucets. Hermioe walked alone for hours, picking up and wiping off anything she could find. She had just picked up what appeared to be a part of a painting, on which she recognized the sword of Sir Cadogan, the crazy knight she had met on her way to her first Divination class.

It was then that she heard a sound behind in. In typical Auror fashion she swiveled around, wand out. Just as she feared she came face to face with an escaped Death Eater.

Draco Malfoy.

"Don't move Malfoy!" She spat at him, dropping the bit of painting.

"Before you freak out, Granger, perhaps you'd like to reunite Sir Cadogan with his sword. I say, he'd be a lot safer-feeling if he had it back." Draco reached out his hand. In it was more of the painting; Hermioe could see the crazy night sitting on what wasleft of the grass, sobbing.

"My horse! My sword! My land!" The knight cried. Draco shrugged and took a step towards Hermione.

"I said, Don't Move, Malfoy!" She shouted, her voice echoing in the evening.

"Come off it Granger. Here, want my wand? Feel better?" He took it from the pocket of his robes and threw it to her. She caught it with one hand, still holding out her wand in the other.

"What are you doing?" She asked him, thouroughly confused.

"You need not hate me. I didn't kill Weasley, any of the Weasleys. I don't know what happened to Potter. I'm even sorry that Dumbledore died. I lost both my parent to this stupid war, this stupid cause, that stupid git Riddle. You know, I may never have been nice to you or anything—"

"That's for sure!"

"But I'm not evil. I was jealous of Potter, yes, but I did not want him dead. The Dark Lord himself christened me as a child into his league, and Dumbledore tried to save me, to spare from that fate, future and pain. I may have joined the Dark Side just after leaving Hogwarts, but Severus and I stayed in touch, and even after Voldemort began to doubt his loyalties, I continued to feed him the information that he gave to Dumbledore, even though I knew it meant risking getting caught and killed. I warned him that they planned to storm Hogwarts, but it was too late. I knew that Voldemort knew my secret, that I had been playing both sides, so I fled. I missed the Afinal Battle entirely. Snape was my Godfather you know, and one of the only people to show me any kindness as a child. I never wanted to be like my father, you have to believe me."

Hermioe wasn't sure what made her believe him, maybe it was the expression in his eyes, or the pleading in his voice, or maybe just the fact that she had given up almost all hope for the future, and therefore didn't care whether or not he was lying, but she lowered her wand.

"Let's reunite Sir Cadogan with his sword." She said quietly.

Draco smiled ever so slightly.

"Yes, and I'm sure his horse must be around here somewhere."

* * *

A/N Please Please Please review and let me know if this is worth continuing. I'm thinking I'm going to HG/DM with this, which is wicked new for me, b/c I've hardly even read HGDM fics before... They're going to find mroe clues that delve into the past, help explain the present and illude to the future...Including a Diary and maybe a pensieve that's still working...anyway, please review.


	2. The Sorting Hat Song

Chapter Two: The Sorting Hat Song

Draco and Hermione searched for over an hour to find the horse, all the while being cheered on by Sir Cadogan, whose spirits had risen considerably upon his happy reunion with his sword. They spoke very little, as both were on a mission. Finding the horse was so stupid, so small, so seemingly hopeless, and yet both refused to give up. Finding the horse had come to mean more to them than anything in the world at that moment, perhaps because reunited that idiot knight with his only friend was in some way helping to heal them, or shield them, from the fact that so many of their friends were gone, and a reunion impossible. The horse represented some sort of foolish hope. The hour turned into two, into three. Still they had spoken very little.

Hermione had found many other items in the rubble. Two more quills, a bit of parchment on which she could barely make out the words "Number Five, Uric the Oddball?" and a beaters' club. She kept all of this, thinking that Fred Weasley, the surviving twin, might want the club, and that she could give the tarred crystal ball she discovered to Parvati Patil, who was still recovering from injuries in St. Mungos.

Draco had found quite a few items as well. A copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, the cage that, in their second year, had been home to a group of rowdy Cornish Pixies, two Chocolate Frog cards and, while searching the area where Dumbledore's office had once been, the tattered and frayed old Sorting Hat.

"Granger!" Draco called, his voice raspy from inactivity. "Look over here!"

Hermione made her way over to Draco, club still in hand. "What is it?" She asked, not bothering to wipe away the tears that had begun to streak down her dirty face as she thought of Ron and Harry and Quiddich and the Twins.

"The Sorting Hat. Reckon it'll still peg you for Gryffindor?" Draco smiled sadly and held it up for her to see.

"I'll try it on if you will," she told him, returning the small sad smile. She took the Hat from his cracked and dry hands. She was surprised when she looked at her own hands that they were the same way, rough and abused, bleeding a little in some spots. She shivered, and placed the Hat on her head.

The hat was motionless for about fifteen seconds, and just before Hermione could take it off her head, it began to speak. She could tell by the look on Malfoy's face that he had heard nothing.

"Ah! Miss Granger, we meet again. Many a student has returned to try me on again, Mr. Potter from your year, and Ginny Weasley too. Many a student. Somehow, though, I thought no one would ever place me on again after the demise of beautiful Hogwarts. I'm afraid I cannot place you again, or even tell where you would belong, were you still a student, because there are no houses to belong to. All I can say is that you've proven yourself clever, smart and quick-thinking. As I told you then, you would have done well in Ravenclaw, but alas your intensity, bravery and strong-headedness place you far above the other in Rowena's house, therefore, Gryffindor is where you belonged then, and were it still here, it is where you would belong now. Don't cry, Miss Granger. True, Hogwarts no longer stands, the walls have all come down, but it lives on in your heart and in your mind, just as Dumbledore and McGonagall and your friends will forever live on in your heart and in your mind. Just as Gryffindor and Slytherin and Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff live on in me. There will be a school here again. I cannot promise it will be called Hogwarts, or that it will be divided into four houses. Perhaps that division helped to bring the school down, to tackle it from within. But the Wizarding youth of Britain will need to learn to use and control their magic, they will need a school to attend where they can learn all they need to about Transfiguration and Potions and Charms and even Muggle Relations. Perhaps, someday, another nervous eleven year old will place me on his head to find out where to go. I simply hope this old hat is not retired. There are still songs to be sung, and I plan on singing for centuries to come. Yes, you are clever and intelligent, but far too brave, intense and strong for Ravenclaw. Better be...GRYFFINDOR!"

Just as he had in her first year, the Sorting Hat yelled out the last word. Malfoy jumped back; everything had been so quiet for so long, the sound of the Hat's voice echoed off the few partially standing walls, and continued to reverberate in Draco's head long after the word had faded into the evening.

"That took an awful long time, and still he said Gryffindor, eh? Was he silent all that time before?" asked Draco, rubbing his throbbing temple.

"No," Hermione said simply, as if still in a daze from all she had just heard. "It's almost completely dark, Malfoy, perhaps it's time to gather what we could and go. I'll take Sir Cadogan, and I'll come back tomorrow in search of his fat gray pony."

"Okay then. Sounds like a plan...hey, where are you staying?"

"Hogsmeade, at the Inn." Hermione paused, thinking. "Care to join me in the pub there for a drink?"

"I haven't anywhere to go or stay the night, so that sounds like a perfect idea." Replied Draco. "Think the old man will have an extra room to rent me?"

"Sure he will," she said, with another small sad smile. "Oh, and you may want this." Hermione reached into her robes and pulled out his wand. He took it and put it in his own pocket.

"Thanks. And then we can come back tomorrow at daybreak," he began, but she cut him off.

"You don't have to come back if you'd rather not, Malf—Draco. I'm sure I can find it."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll be here. It's like therapy I think, cleaning the place up. And besides, you never know what you might find." He held his hand out to her. In it, the crest from one of the Slytherin trunks that had held their Quiddich supplies. It was fused somehow to another trunk's crest, this one Red and Gold, the head of a lion. Gryffindor.

"It must have happened in the flames, the heat fused the two together," Hermione mused, fingering the small object.

Draco nodded and pocketed the object as Hermione returned it. "Interesting, eh?" He said to her.

"What is? Asked she.

He held up the molded crests. "Joined together in tragedy, Slytherin and Gryffindor."

* * *

I know it seems like it's going a little slow, but this is important to what happens later...and besides, I am a big fan of the Sorting Hat, just check out my cute lil Sorting Hat Song in my Snape fic! lol...Anyway, please review and let me know what you think, good or bad, anything... Thanks!


	3. Conversing At The Inn

Despite the fact that Hogwarts no longer existed, its grounds were still unable to be apparated to or from, so Hermione and Draco had to walk to the edge of the property, a somewhat long journey not usually traveled on foot, in order to Disapparate and appear just outside the Inn. Forty-five minutes after they had decided to depart, the pair arrived and settled in at a small table towards the back of the room. A plump old witch with waist-length gray-black hair and an unnerving lazy eye took their order shortly after their arrival. The bar was relatively quiet, though there were about thirty-five people there. Many spoke in hushed voices, still discussing the Final Battle, Voldemort's demise, Dumbledore's death and, the most popular conversation of the last three months, Where is Harry Potter? Everyone had their own ideas, including those pillocks over at the Daily Prophet and those dunderheads writing for The Quibbler, though the latter was not nearly as ridiculous in its assessments and theories as the former, perhaps as some sort of respect for their editor, Luna Lovegood's father.

Hermione and Draco, due to their extreme exhaustion, said little while waiting for their drinks. Finally the old witch came back to their table, Butterbeer (for Hermione) in one hand, Fire-Whisky (for Draco) in the other.

"Drink up," she said to them. Her smile revealed several yellowed and broken teeth, which immediately made Hermione think of her parents, Muggle Dentists, and how glad she was to still have them.

"So..." said Draco after a few minutes of sipping in silence. "How are...things. What have you done since school let out?"

Hermione tried to smile. Had it not been so sad, the irony of the situation would almost have been funny. Just before they graduated Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall asked each student what he or she expected to be doing in five years. Hermione had said she was going to be an Auror, possibly married, but with no children, and that she would most likely still be hanging around with Ron and Harry, reading thick books while they talked Quidditch. Had anyone said she would be at an Inn in Hogsmeade drinking and chatting with Draco Malfoy, she'd have thought them mad! And yet here she was, twenty-two years old, sitting in a bar with her arch nemesis. A Death Eater.

"Well," she began, mentally trying to set her head back on straight. "I didn't know what I wanted to be in my fifth and sixth years, but then in my seventh, all Harry's talk about being an Auror sounded so interesting..." She paused. It hurt to talk about Harry. Taking a deep cleansing breath, she continued. "I just decided it would be good for me. I wanted to help the Wizarding World stay safe. I didn't marry like I thought I might, though Ron and I dated for..." Talking about Ron wasn't much easier. Another deep breath. "For a couple of years after school let out. He was playing for the Chudley Cannons, though he really wasn't that good, I half think they let him on because they wanted to recruit Ginny so badly..." Her voice trailed off a third time. Ginny, her closest female friend, had not been killed in the battle, she had merely gone mad like her oldest brother, and her parents. Hermione had visited her in St. Mungos just last week...

"What about you?" Asked Hermione, downing the rest of her butterbeer and signaling the old witch for another.

"My Mum and Dad expected me to marry straight away, so me and Pansy got engaged. But then she got pregnant and my mother wanted us married right off but my father didn't want us to get married at all, Mum wanted to avoid scandal but Father thought it better if he just broke our betrothment, we've been fated since age twelve, and make it look like someone else...you know..." It was Malfoy's turn to take in a deep cleansing breath, "In any case, we decided to live together and get married anyway, so we did, that was four years ago, but we got divorced last year. She hid the baby from me, and now she's in Azkaban, so I haven't seen my child in some time."

"That's terrible!" Hermione exclaimed heatedly, startling the old witch who had just returned with another drink for each of them.

"Yeah. Sad, really. Course I wasn't really a decent father anyway, so I doubt the little one misses me any." Draco took a swig of his drink and ran his hand through his white-blond hair, pulling it back from his pale face and away from his sharp gray eyes.

"It's all bloody awful isn't it?" Hermione asked, her eyes downcast. "The whole world in shambles like this, it's horrible. Everyone's lives torn apart. I just don't understand...You were on the other side, Draco, what was it? The mentality? Why?"

Draco looked up sharply, and Hermione raised her head to meet his gaze.

"My father taught me, from a very early age, all about purity, and how the Mudbloods pollute the earth, and about how Muggles and Wizards cannot live side by side as muggle-lovers like Dumbledore would like. My Mum, who loved me, she talked of her sister Andromeda, who was disowned for marrying a muggle, and how she, me mum, missed her so very much, but if she tried to contact her, Bellatrix would surely inform their parents and she, too, would be out of the will and probably, knowing my father, out on the streets. My mother was indifferent to everyone in the world, except me. And even with me, she was cold and smart and distant, though she spoilt me rotten and seemed to love me. She was strong and cruel and genius, except where my father was concerned. What were you taught by your parents? It stays with you, doesn't it? It has to; they get an awful long time to put ideas into you. It wasn't until a year ago, when I saw what was happening, when I really saw it, when the Dark Lord decided it was time to come out of his hiding, to abandon his four-year hiatus and return again, to kill as many as he could, not curse, just torture, for fun, and kill, more fun. I was expected to kill, to torture. And my first victim was Arabella Figg, a squib. She lived near Potter, and we picked her up for some fun one night, we as in Crabbe and Goyle and my Father and Aunt Bellatrix and my uncle, and, well, we. A bunch of Death Eaters. And she meant nothing, she could do us no harm, no one even knew that the Dark Lord planned another return so soon, to wait until Potter was off-guard and kill him once and for all, but not without ridding the world of those who had wronged him and hurting those who had caused him any annoyance, bother or pain. But Arabella Figg, who was she, except to watch over Harry Potter as a baby so long ago and report any suspicious people or beings or happening to Dumbledore, she was nothing, no one. So it should have been easy."

Hermione was watching Draco closely, absorbed in his words and expression. He was looking somewhere past her left shoulder as he spoke, clearly focused on an image only he could see, his memories.

"We threw curses at her left and right, knowing full-well she had no defense. My father and the adults left after a short while, bored, and left her with us, me, Crabbe, Goyle, Marcus Flint and Theodore Knott. And we started with little things, jelly legs, stuff like that, and Marcus wanted to try Unforgivables. And I wanted to as well. I really had no desire to hurt the old woman, I was just curious. Could I do it? Could she handle it? What would his Darkness say when he heard of my capabilities? I liked power. I wanted it. It's in my blood." He took a last swig of whisky and started on the full one the witch had already set on the table.

"I remember how big I felt when I said Crucio! Except that I didn't just say it, I yelled it loud and proud, wand at the ready, full of hatred for some innocent old woman I had hardly heard of before. She twisted and writhed in pain, limbs twisting out at odd angles, and it looked just awful. The guys were laughing, and I joined in, and they wanted me to 'do the honors,' kill her off, but I couldn't, so I told them, 'no, we'll leave her here, let her think about it,' and they laughed, and we left, but it wasn't funny. That wasn't the last straw either. It was when...It was when they got a hold of Ella Longbottom, kidnapped her, this little two year old. I never could stand that Neville, and Loony Lovegood, he married her...I don't see why I cared. Flint was ready to deliver her to the Dark Lord, they thought that Neville and Luna might show up to save her, and maybe bring along their pal Potter. No one knew his Darkness was ready to return, no one but us of course, so they set out the word that his former supporters had her and she was to be killed unless Potter and pals responded to a request for a formal but secret dual between t hem and us. It was all a ploy. But Ella was two, and mine not much older, and I couldn't help thinking how I would feel if I were Longbottom...This damn empathy, you're not supposed to feel it if you're going to be a Death Eater. You can't feel it and do your job. But I felt it. I may not have been a good parent, but I was a parent. And so I sent an anonymous Owl to Longbottom, telling him where he could pick her up, and if he brought protection, to not have it be Potter."

"It was I he took with him," said Hermione slowly. I went along with him, with Dean Thomas, another Auror, though we were sure Hogwarts was safe. We picked up Ella."

"I put her on a broom I picked up cheap in Diagon Alley, and bewitched it to fly to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and you found her there, safe?"

"Physically fine, just scared and cold. She seemed to be a bit out of it though, spent two weeks in St. Mungo's." said Hermione.

"Her memory was modified a few times, so she would forget the awful things she saw and heard. I modified it right before I put her on the broom. I thought she might be scared for life, but I later told the others it was because I didn't want her to remember her captors."

"And she didn't."

"That kept her alive."

Hermione sighed. On the one hand, she was furious that he would do such a thing as kidnapping a baby and participating in the small but terrible torture that was inflicted on her, but on the other hand, she really did not remember it, and she was, after all, alive.

"Who has her now?" Asked Draco, honestly concerned.

"Luna's father has them both, Ella and Frankie, her little brother. They're three and eighteen months old now. But it is possible that Luna will recover, in time. They're making remarkable strides."

He nodded, and they drank in silence for a few minutes.

Finally, Hermione voiced the question she had been mulling over in her mind since he last spoke. "Is that why you left?" She asked him.

He put down his drink and stared into her brown eyes. She felt as though he was seeing right through her, into her soul, but she quickly reminded herself how cliché that sounded and how she was hardly the romance novel cliché type of girl. Woman.

"In part. I left for many reasons. My marriage was ending as Pansy and I had little in common. Mainly, I wanted her to go, to take out child and leave, go somewhere safe, and she refused. The Dark Lord punished me most extensively for letting Ella go, and Pansy was embarrassed." He put his hands on the table, and Hermione rested one of hers on his.

"I didn't leave right away even, not until six months ago, after the divorce. I confided in Severus Snape, my mentor and Godfather, this was just before he was found out as a spy, and when he was killed I became Dumbledore's primary source of information. That is why I am not in Azkaban with Macnair, Pettigrew, Pansy and Flint. I tried to warn him..."

Draco could no longer continue speaking. He shivered and took a final swig of his final mug of fire whisky and stood up.

"It's late, and I feel I've had a bit much to drink, so I should best be on my way," he said, swaying slightly as he stood.

"You are getting a room here?"

"Naah," he shook his head and picked up his bag. "I heard a bloke say just after we walked in that the place is booked solid. I'll find somewhere."

"Stay with me." She said strongly, standing and placing a hand on his arm. "I mean, you needn't...we oughtn't...Just so as you have a place to sleep. It's cold tonight. I could conjure you up a cot..."

"You would not thoroughly object to opening your room to a known Death Eater?" He asked. She could smell the whisky on his breath, they were standing so close.

"No," she whispered. "I wouldn't object."

* * *

A/N Get your mind out of the gutter! They're only going to be SLEEPING in the same ROOM! Geez! Lol...

About the Sorting Hat, I know he placed her in the end, sorry if it was confusing. I wanted it to have the feel that he ended his little speech with the exact thing he said to her in her first year, as to validate that she was in the right house all along. Plus I didn't want Draco to think there was anything weird about it...

So, should I let y'all see a little bit of their night as roommates, or shall I skip and simply open the next chapter with them back at Hogwarts? You tell me...mwahaahaa...

AL


	4. Roommates

Chapter Four:

Roommates

* * *

Hermione unlocked the door using the enchanted key the innkeeper had given her (only the person to whom the room is checked out can use it) and the pair stumbled into the room. Draco closed the door behind him, and then...

Nothing.

The two stared at each other immobile for several seconds that, to both parties, felt like an eternity. Suddenly, Draco took a step towards the former Gryffindor, and slid his arm around her waist. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and they kissed. There was nothing sweet or romantic about it, only passion, desire, lust and pain. The kiss depended as their tongues explored each other's mouths.

Draco's lips left Hermione's and traveled to her cheekbone, her neck, her shoulder. She guided his head back up so that the two were eye level. A moments pause.

As abruptly as the first time they embraced again, this time taking things a step further. She slid her wizard's robe off over her head, and he did the same. Under hers she was wearing a red tank top and a knee-length black skirt. He pulled her towards him, sliding his hands up the back of her thighs. He lifted her up; she wrapped her legs around his waist...He carried her to the bed, and pushed her down roughly. They began rocking slowly back and forth. He slid her shirt off over her head and ran his fingers over the top of her pale pink bra. Her hands explored him as well, up his back, under his shirt, against bare skin. Off came his dark green sweater. She took hold of his shoulders and turned him, moving him until he was on his back and she on top, straddling him. His hands traveled again to her legs, caressing her thighs...She reached her hand down to unzip his pants...

Then...

He . "Wait!" said he, out of breath. "Wait."

Hermione was also having trouble catching her breath. "Wha- -What? What's...wrong?"

"Let's just...not." He said, reaching for her sweater. "Not now."

"No..." Hermione agreed, putting her tank top back on. "Not now."

The two sat in silence a few minutes, lost in thought. Finally Hermione rose from the bed and conjured up a cot for Draco. He laid down fully clothed, and shut his eyes. She too climbed into bed, and used her wand to shut off the light. She shut her eyes. They were both exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally...They were just so...very...tired.

But it was a long time before either one fell asleep.

* * *

A/N Sorry...This chapter is short, I know, and I really don't like it all that much, I'm not sure why...I did what I wanted (so far) with the plot and characters, but...hmmm...Please review and give me feedback (if you think I should re-do the whole chap, tell me! But just so ya know, I was not planning on having them sleep together at this time, and that I won't change.) But please review! and thanks for all the other reviews! Thanks...


	5. What The Hell Happened?

A/n I just realized that I listed Arabella Figg as tortured in chapter one, but that's a mistake. She's dead…Sorry, I'll fix it as soon as I can figure out where I saved that chapter… :)

Chapter Five:

What The Hell Happened?

* * *

When Hermione awoke in the morning, Draco was already gone. She breathed a sigh of relief, vaguely remembering the events of the night before. She sat up in bed and rubbed her throbbing temples; the light streaming in from the window to her left was most unwelcome. 'It's okay, Hermione,' the voice in her head assured her. 'You didn't sleep with him, you simply had too much to drink and…lost your head. But you came to your senses in time!' She sighed, as another thought drifted into her mind. 'Ahh, but you didn't come to your senses at all, did you? It was Draco who realized what you were about to do, and that it was a mistake…It was Draco…'

Draco Malfoy, once her arch-nemeses, now her potential lover? She laughed out loud at the very idea. Rotten, spoiled, snotty, rude and selfish, hater of mudbloods, follower of darkness, that was the Draco Malfoy she knew. But the Draco she had see just last night, in the bar, divorced, remorseful, broken, a father without a child, a son without a father or mother, a husband without a wife, that man was not the same Draco she remembered from Hogwarts, not at all.

"What the hell was I thinking?" She said aloud.

"Well, I'm still no good at Occlumency, but I think I could make a guess," a male voice answered her.

He stepped out of the shadowy doorway of the WC and Hermione gasped.

Harry Potter.

* * *

Draco had awoken very early that morning, just after the sunrise. His sleep had been restless, and yet he was not tired. He slid out of bed, or rather, off the cot, and dressed for the day. He folded the cot (using magic of course) and went downstairs for coffee and a blueberry muffin, alone. He felt badly about leaving Hermione without saying goodbye, but his memory was plagued by thoughts of what they did, and almost went on to do.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he had harbored a small crush on her in their last two years of school, but it was not because he liked her. In actuality, he hated her, and something in that hatred that often invaded his mind at night. He would wake up sweaty, hot, sticky and uncomfortable those nights that her image haunted his dreams. This became his favorite nighttime fantasy, and as close as he came to making it reality the night before, he knew that to do so would be a great mistake.

Draco finished his coffee and muffin about ten minutes after he ordered them, and paid the bill. He decided to walk to the shrieking shack, and take the tunnel to Hogwarts. The Whomping Willow had been destroyed in the battle (thus how he discovered the passageway) so there was no danger in taking that route. He knew he could apparate there, or apparate to just outside Hogwarts grounds, and be closer, but he wanted to walk, outside, in the cool morning air, to clear his head. He just needed to clear his head.

* * *

"Hi there, Hermione. How've you been?" Harry smiled at her, running his hand through his hair as he had often seen his father do in various photographs and Dumbledore's penseive memories.

"Harry Potter, where the bloody hell have you been? You disappeared after the battle, people thought you were dead, though that you'd…you'd…" He was smiling at her, which made her angrier, somehow.

"Sorry about that. You see, it was entirely necessary that I disappear. Dumbledore wanted Voldemort killed, so I had to kill him. But I could never really fully kill him now, could I? Because we are too closely connected, just as Voldemort and Dumbledore were so closely connected. In order for Voldemort to die, Dumbledore had to die too…But neither will ever really die, for they both live on. In me."

Hermione was now thoroughly confused. And scared. Instinctively, she reached for her wand. Harry laughed.

"Looking for this?" He held it up for her to see. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you Hermione. We're friends, remember? Me, and you, and Ron. Forever."

"Ron's dead. Suicide. His brother George was killed, and Molly, Arthur, Bill and Ginny, they're all mad. It's just me. Give back my wand."

"In due time." Harry's smile had gone when he learned of the Weasley's terrible fate. "What about the others? Neville, and Lupin…What about Hagrid?"

"Hagrid is fine. Terribly depressed over the loss of Dumbledore. McGonagall and Snape are dead. And Neville too. And Remus. Madame Maxime and Katie Bell and Lee Jordan, they're all dead. So many are dead, Harry. They died to save you. And then you disappeared."

"They shouldn't have died. That was Dumbledore's fault, allowing them to fight for me, when he knew it could only be the three of us. Just the three of us. Just me." Harry's voice had taken that icy quality up again, the tone that had so terribly creeped her out when he had arrived. It's the way it has to be, Hermione. I just wanted to se you, once last time."

Her brow furrowed and she stood up from the bed, glad she was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that she had thrown on at some point during the cold, nearly sleepless night. "What do you mean, the last time?" She asked him.

"I have a bit of a…transformation ahead of me. You see, with all that is now in me…Perhaps I should explain what I learned that night. I am the heir of Slytherin."

"What? Harry, that's silly, remember, our second year…?"

"I found the Chamber, and I managed to speak to it, to open it. Not because I was a parselmouth, not just because anyway, but because Tom Riddle was not the only heir of Slytherin."

"But Fawkes, he brought you the hat, and you pulled out the sword!" She protested, but Harry held up a hand to silence her.

"Godric Gryffindor's sword. Because I am also his soul surviving heir. And as such, I am the heir of two other very powerful wizards, Lord Voldemort, and Albus Dumbledore."

"But how--"

"I'll get to that, Hermione! Many many years ago, it seems that--"

"Hermione, you'll never guess what I found!" Draco Malfoy burst into the room, pale cheeks flushed with color, a smile on his thin lips. He stopped when he saw Harry standing before him.

His mouth dropped open. "Bloody hell."

Harry, surprised, glanced from Hermione to Draco and back to Hermione. His voice dropped and became raspy, deeper. "Well, well. What luck. Draco Malfoy."

* * *

A/N

How was this chapter? good? okay? better than the last one? It's shifting the direction a little, but don't worry, it'll be hgdm before you know it! Please, please review for me! I wuv you! :) AL


	6. Connections

**Chapter Six: Connections**

Draco staggered back a couple of steps, obviously stunned to see Harry.

"Harry Potter? But…how…Everyone thinks that you're dead!" He sputtered.

"Yes, convenient, isn't it? Unfortunately, Malfoy, you were not supposed to know that I'm not dead, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you."

Malfoy reached for his wand, but Harry moved quicker.

"Expelliarmus!" He yelled, and then, "Crucio!"

Draco fell to the floor in excruciating pain.

"No!" shrieked Hermione, lunging at Harry. Preoccupied by Draco, who was writhing in pain on the floor, Harry was caught off balance, and he fell onto the bed. Hermione, sitting on top of him, grabbed his wand-hand and bit into his wrist until she could taste his metallicy blood on the tip of her lips and tongue.

He, as expected, dropped his wand. Hermione threw it to Draco, who had just picked up his own wand from the floor by the bathroom door where it had landed.

"Geroff me!" Harry growled at his friend, pushing her shoulders back hard.

"You stupid bastard!" She shouted, slapping him hard across the face. "You make us mourn you, we felt so lost without you! And here you are, back finally and you've gone ruddy psycho! How could you do this to all of us, Harry? Ron was in so much bloody pain he killed himself! He killed himself, Harry, and he left me all alone! The Weasleys, remember them, Harry, they took you in and fed you and made you sweaters and brought you to the World Cup and loved you, remember them? They've been destroyed fighting for you, Harry! Everyone has been destroyed! Hogwarts is gone, Dumbledore is gone, Neville is dead and Luna is mad and they've left their baby an orphan! Mcgonagall, who was always stern with you but always fair! Hagrid, he adored you! Remus, one of your father's best friends! They're all gone! All for you! Trying to save you!" At this point Hermione was hysterically crying. She was still sitting on Harry, but all of the fight seemed to have left him. The anger and maliciousness were slipping away, as the hatred and evil clear in his eyes gave way to the grief and pain she expected. At the mention of every name his expression had become more somber, more depressed, more the way Hermione had seen him look in the past, after the deaths of Sirius and Cedric. This was the way she remembered Harry in their seventh year. Compassionate, tired, hurting.

Teardrops slid down Hermione's face and off the end of her nose. One landed SPLAT on Harry's glasses, and when he slowly took them off to wipe away the water, she could see tears forming in his green eyes that mirrored hers. Draco, still on the floor by the bathroom, rubbed his aching temple with his left hand, his right clutching the wand. As he watched the scene, his wand-hand lowered. He was silent.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered a few moments later. "Harry? What happened to you?"

Unable to speak, Harry shook his head slowly, then lay flat down again on the bed, eyes closed, glasses still in his hand. Hermione, feeling it was finally safe to move, began to slide off him.

"No," He whispered, grabbing her hand with sudden and unexpected force. "Not yet. I don't trust myself yet."

They remained in those position, he, lying on his back, glasses in hand, her, straddling him, tears flowing freely, Draco huddled in the corner, still in mild shock, for nearly fifteen minutes.

* * *

A half hour later the trio was sitting at a table downstairs in the pub, drinking butterbeer and eating sandwiches. Harry had advised Hermione to keep hold of his wand "at least for a little longer," and he also promised to explain "as much as possible." Hermione couldn't help feeling awkward at this table, her best friend in adolescence to her left, her arch-nemesis.

Draco and Harry felt the tension too.

Finally, while opening his second butterbeer, Harry began to speak.

"There's always been a strange…connection between me and Voldemort," he began, sipping his drink. "Always. I knew that. But what I didn't know is that I was connected to Dumbledore too…and I served to connect the two of them to each other, even before I was born."

* * *

A/N

This chapter is wickedshort, I know, (sorry) but I wanted to end it here because I don't plan to put up the entire conversation between our trio…not yet, anyway. I hope you enjoy this little bit anyway, short as it may be! :) BTW, Thanks so much for all the awesome reviews! They keep me going, seriously. Thanks!


	7. Further Talks and Hogwarts

**Chapter Seven: Further Talks and Hogwarts**

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and before they knew it an hour had gone by. Harry related his tale, in a hushed voice, as the Draco and Hermione listened intently. Finally, Harry paused long enough for Hermione to voice a question she'd had since he had first begun to speak.

"So you could read Dumbledore's thoughts too, Harry?" She asked, leaning forward.

He held up a hand to silence her. "It's so very much more complicated than that, I'm afraid. Remember how long the Sorting Hat took with me, Hermione? It took so very long, because it was thinking between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It was rather unsure, but in the end, it heeded my pleas to go 'anywhere but Slytherin' and placed me accordingly."

Draco scowled at the mention of his former house, but said nothing.

"And this connection, Harry? It's what has caused you—"

Again he held his hand up to silence the young woman.

"I've got to disappear awhile, Hermione. Face my own demons."

"But you've been gone so long already!"

"I'm a danger to everyone around."

"You're more a danger if left alone so long! Please, Harry…"

"He needs to sort out what he wants, Hermione? Don't you get it? He knows both sides, he knows what he's capable of, but he needs to know if he can tear that one side off, if he can escape the part of him that isn't what he needs to be!" Draco interrupted suddenly. Hermione got a distinct impression that he was speaking from experience, perhaps recalling his own intense personal struggle between good and evil.

"Before you go, Harry, will you do a favor to me?"

Harry tore his eyes from Malfoy and smiled sadly at his friend. "Yes?"

"Come with us today, to Hogwarts. Please?"

"It may be good for you, chap," Draco said, downing the last of his drink. "Like therapy for me, it is. Maybe it'll answer some questions for you too. Besides, we need all the help we can get…Sir Cadogan's still longing for that old pony of his, and I reckon if we really look well enough, we can find it."

"Sir Cadogan? Wasn't he that crazy old knight we had replacing that Fat Lady awhile, back in Third Year?" Harry asked Hermione. He knew it was; he remembered.

"That's the one!" laughed Hermione. But her light attitude dissipated quickly as she said, "Oh, but Harry, I have to warn you…It's not at all like it once was. Most everything's been destroyed, it's all in ruins, Harry…Maybe you ought not to come after all, I…I don't know."

"I need to, Hermione. I need to see what's left…What's left of my home."

* * *

There wasn't much left, but they trio spent hours silently digging, clawing through the dirt and dust and rubble, hoping to salvage any little bit of their former lives.

"I should've just become a teacher," Harry mumbled to himself, picking up a small leather bound book with the Gryffindor Crest magically emblazoned on the cover.

He opened the book, and read the inscription on the inside front cover.

_To my Minerva, _

_Here is where you may record you memories_

_Your daily high and low_

_And make sure you remember me_

_Your favorite friend and foe_

_Don't forget to write the past_

_Present and future too_

_For every memory is ours _

_And every dream come true._

The little poem was not signed, but Harry was sure he recognized the handwriting from…somewhere…

_Your father left this in my care before he died. Use it well._

He decided he'd try not to think about it, and it would come to him later, a trick he often used when taking tests.

He turned to page one and began to read.

_So I've got another notebook. This one is truly beautiful; I love the leather binding and inscription. Not exactly a poet is he, but he certainly tries, and that makes it perfect. So, the high and low of today? Well, we're finally rid of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but at a terrible price. Lily and James are dead, and little Harry…I wanted to raise him myself, here at the school, I'm sure it would be all the better for him…But alas, I have been overruled yet again. He will be raised by those awful Muggles. They will not love him, or care for him properly, but Albus feels that with every child in our world knowing his name, he would be better off in a world where he can grow up normal. But these people are hardly normal! They're awful, the worst Muggles there are. Albus cannot stand to hear me categorize Muggles in such a way, to imply that they are in any way less worthy of wizardry that we, but really…These Muggles are different! They're awful. _

Harry sighed and flipped forward in the diary. He read a few lines and as flipped through the pages.

…_He made it grow back overnight, oh and his aunt was furious! I want to tell Albus of his power, he most surely is Magic, but if he knew I was there twice a week, spying…_

…_A full grown mountain troll! I gave them each five points, though I took five from Miss. Granger, though I'm not sure she told the truth about hunting down the beast…_

…_And he caught that thing fifty feet up, spectacular save! I told Wood this very day, I have found a Seeker! He's only in his first year, first eleven year old Seeker in a hundred years!_

He flipped a bit further, to the middle of the book.

…_Arthur Weasley, nearly killed! Harry saw the whole thing in his head. Will that awful Umbridge woman see it now? You-Know-Who is back! But everyone, even still, even now, thy refuse to accept it. The school is torn, I hear my students in the corridors. They think Albus has lost it, they think Harry is an attention seeking liar. How many have to die before someone does something? How many this time… _

…_I'm still recovering, slowly. Five stunners to the chest! To stun an old woman! No matter how often I choose to deny it to myself, I am an old woman now…_

"What is that you found, Harry?" Hermione's voice jarred Harry away from the book.

"What? Oh, uh, nothing, Hermione. Have you found the pony?"

"Not yet, but Draco found The Fat Lady. She's rather upset and won't talk except to say, 'Password, Please? Password?' I fear she's gone off the edge."

"Painting's can do that?"

"You've met Sir Cadogan?"

"Oh, yeah." Harry sighed. "So you and Draco are…what? He just walked right into your room."

"He's staying with me because he has no where to go, Harry. That's all. When will you tell me the rest of what's happened to you, why you can't trust yourself, just how strong is the connection—"

"Is that it, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up. "Just asking me here to get more of the story? Going to write a book of it, eh? Is that it?"

"Harry, please, don't get upset," said Hermione, looking around for Draco nervously.

"He can't hear us now, Hermione. He's too far away, and the wind is picking up." He reached for his wand. "Don't bother trying to run either…" Suddenly, he shook his head and his wand dropped from his hand to the ground.

"You take it, Hermione. I can't. I just can't."

"Alright, Harry." She picked it up. "Alright."

* * *

A/N Please review! How do you like where this is going? Any suggestions? Thanks! :) 


	8. Good and Evil

**Chapter Eight: Good and Evil**

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly for the trio, and soon it was getting dark again. They trekked back to the inn and ate a small dinner before turning in for the night.

When Draco and Hermione awoke the next morning, Harry was already gone.

"He's probably just down getting breakfast," Hermione reasoned as she stretched.

Draco yawned and picked up a piece of paper from the dresser.

"He'll be right back," she sad, leaning over to touch her toes.

"I don't think so, Hermione," said Draco. She stood up straight, and paled when she saw his face. "What is it, Draco? What's wrong?"

"He left…he left a note for us. And this diary. And this little book. The note, it says…Well look at it, Hermione! It looks as if it was written by two entirely different people!"

She crawled across the bed and walked to Draco's side. He handed her the bit of parchment, and she began to read.

Hermione and Draco 

**I can't stay around any longer. I am a danger to everyone, I fear. Everyone. There are two forces inside me, the forces of my ancestors, of good and evil, of Voldemort and Dumbledore, of Gryffindor and Slytherin. The two are battling constantly, and I am the one losing each battle, because as the polar opposites take over I am losing more and more of myself. I thought it was bad to have Voldemort living sort of in me after his curse backfired, but to have them both, to be haunted constantly,**

_But I will prevail. And I will rise up. I will be stronger than either, for I carry the knowledge and power of both! I cannot be defeated! I cannot be brought down! No one can escape my wrath_**I cannot escape myself. **_There is no where to go, to run, to hide. Not for me and not for you. Either of you. I am the Darkest Wizard and I am the best _**I am all that is good, and all that is evil, the inner conflict that is within all of us but most have chosen paths; Hermione, you were meant to lead, to be good and kind and smart and lead the side of light to the end of the tunnel; the good. And Draco, you were predestined for…what? You must understand my plight **_you betray me and you will suffer, you will pay. You disappoint me, Malfoy! You insult the name of pureblood. What would your father say? Your mother? You are a traitor to the families Malfoy and Black. _

_**I'm leaving forever. It will be better that way; safer. And with any hope these two sides that are pulling me apart will one day rip me clean down the middle, and I will be no more. I will suffer no more. I will have to fight no more. Goodbye Draco, former foe, and I will never forget you, Hermione. Ron deserved a better ending; I hope you both find what you need at Hogwarts and in yourselves. **_

Harry Potter The boy who lived 

"The end of the letter," Hermione said slowly, wiping a tear from her face. "He is both united together, good and evil, you see? These two little books he left us, what are they?"

"This one is," Draco picked it up and leafed through. "It looks like Professor McGonagall's diary, except she writes all about Harry in it, like marking his progress and all that. And here I am!

"Lucius Malfoy's son. Oh, but he made a terrific ferret, did he not? Moody! He has been acting a bit off as of late, Poppy and Abus have noticed it too, but after that incident I am sure the old Moody has returned, crazy as ever! Imagine! A ferret!"

Draco scowled. "I didn't think it was funny."

Despite the seriousness of the morning Hermione had to laugh. "Oh, but it was! Imagine it from our points of view, if it had been me as a ferret! Or Harry! Or Ron!"

At the mention of her former love, Hermione again became sullen and depressed.

"Hermione, the ferret. You're right, it does sound considerably more entertaining when put that way. What about the other book??

Hermione picked it up. It was a small leather bound journal, and obviously very old.

"Let's take it down to breakfast, shall we? I…I'm hungry."

Draco nodded. "I need to get out of here for awhile too. Let's go to that café on the Muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron."

"Excellent idea." Hermione put the books and the note into her handbag and Draco grabbed his wallets. "Perhaps we should dress first though, Hermione?"

He was still in his sweatpants and t-shirt, and she in a night gown. "Goodness! Let's."

A half hour later, both were washed and dressed, teeth brushed and money in their pockets. Both wore jeans, and sweatshirts; It was a cool, gray, drizzly morning in London.

"You're a Weird Sisters fan?" He asked when he saw the logo on her shirt.

"Yeah, I started to really enjoy them seventh year."

"Yeah…They're good."

"Yeah…"

The pair didn't talk much on the way to Muggle London. They apparated from the front of the inn to Diagon Alley and walked through to Muggle London. They were seated promptly and ordered right away. After they were nearly done (Draco with his bacon and eggs, Hermione with her hot cakes) she brought out the second diary.

When she opened it a couple of pages fell out. She placed them on the table and read the inscription.

"Hello, Hermione!" the words appeared on the inside cover. "Miss me?" And right there, under the words, was a picture of Ron.

* * *

A/N I am SO WICKED SORRY it has been so long since i last updated. First, I lost some of what I had written, then when I tried to re-do it I hated what I had, and then I went through horrible writers block for this one while the creative juices for my Min fic were flowing like crazy! Don't worry, this will not become a Hermione/Ron thing, after all, he is dead. And that is sad. And Hemione, after reading a little of this journal (which isn't Ron's diary, btw) will be upset, and seek comfort...gues where? OOh! I gues the creative juices for this ARE flowing again! :) Please review, and I welcome any adive or ideas re: what to do next! Thanks.

AL


	9. Dead Memories

**Chapter Nine:**

**Dead Memories**

"Ron?" Hermione said uncertainly, her voice trembling.

"It can't really be him!" Draco declared, moving his chair so that he was next to, rather than across from, Hermione.

"Ron! Can you…can you hear me?" Hermione asked as a lone tear dripped down her check and landed on the ancient looking page of the diary.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The tall, tanned waitress had noticed Hermione talking into her book, and was whispering to a skinny, acne-suffering busboy.

"Ronald? Ron, talk to me! Where are you, love? Answer me, please?" Hermione was getting a little hysterical as the words _Don't cry, darling,_ appeared on the page. The picture of him was replaced at that moment with one of the pair standing with Neville and Luna on their wedding day. Draco silently noted not only how beautiful Hermione looked in emerald green bridesmaid gown, but how truly happy she obviously was, Ron on her arm, Ginny Weasley, also in green, beside her.

"Let's go, Hermione," Draco said softly, taking her arm. But the book was not through. _You love me, don't you Hermione? I'm sorry I ever left you. I'm sorry I could not have been stronger for you. I'm sorry—"_

Draco snatched the journal for Hermione's hands. She was sobbing rather loudly, and he wanted to get her out of there. Not caring about what the Muggles would think, he threw down the last of the Muggle money he had, and took Hermione's hands. "Honeydukes," he said, and together the pair apparated out of the diner.

When they arrived moments later outside Honeydukes Draco tossed the book to the ground and pulled Hermione to him. She allowed herself to be held for sever minutes as she cried, but then, suddenly, she stepped back and pushed Draco with all her strength. Off balance, Draco very nearly ended up on the ground, but managed to catch himself on a "Fizzing Whatsis-The New Age of Candy" display.

"What the hell?" he began, grounded himself in case she should happen to strike again.

"You! You! Where is it? Where is that diary? Dammit, Malfoy give it back! I need to read it, he's speaking to me, I need to know!"

"Let's go back to the inn," he said gently. But he couldn't help reminding himself that pre-fatherhood, espionage and the end to the war, he would not have stood for some muggle born witch pushing him around in public, tears or no tears.

"The…the diary…I need…Ron…" Her breath was ragged and strained, and her tears had not yet begun to subside.

He picked the book up from the ground where it had landed and took her arm. "The inn, Hermione."

She allowed him to lead her back there. Once safely locked in her (their) room, they sat next to each other on the bed, and he refused to immediately relinquish the book.

"Do you know what this is, Hermione?" He asked her, and she shook her head. "I'm not sure why Harry gave it to us, perhaps he thought it would help you to feel better, but this is a dead-diary. A book in which we can, well, not communicate with, but…Let me give an example. Ron cannot really talk to you or anyone through the book, which is why Harry did not know of his death. Potter did, however, know his parents had died, obviously, so I suspect he used the book to talk to them."

She sniffed. "Or Sirius."

"Or Sirius. I could use it, if I so desire, to look at pictures and 'speak to' my mother of Severus. I could look for guidance or solace, but you mostly find the same things over and over. 'I miss you.' 'Do you still think of me?' 'I love you.' All of that, but it's not really them, it's just the book, telling you what you want to hear, and showing you what you need to see. My mother had one; she used it to remember her mother, who died before I was born. They were very close. But the diary, my mother told me, was not for someone still heavily mourning, or someone trying to look for answers or companionship or ever real communication. I will give the diary back to you, Hermione, but remember that this is a dead diary, not a window into the world in which Ron Weasley now resides."

There was a long period of silence after Draco finished telling Hermione of the book. Sadly, she recalled to herself having read of dead diaries a few years prior, but thought that all had been destroyed.

As if he could read her thoughts, Malfoy said, "most were destroyed years ago, after it was discovered that they cause people to go mad, starve to death, get extremely depressed or do some pretty wild things, including commit suicide, just to be with their loved ones again. Mother refused to destroy hers. I suppose a great many other people did as well."

"I…I can't let go. Not yet," Hermione began a few minutes later. "But…I do not want to…I couldn't…Ron was so broken up about all the loss, he killed himself. He died, he chose to die, and left me all alone. He chose to leave me all alone."

"I'm sure it was not an easy choice." Said Malfoy. He did not add _selfish cowardly git _to the sentence, though he was thinking it.

"And that's makes it okay?!" Hermione jumped to her feet, wiping away the last of her tears with the back of her right hand. "He's dead, dammit, and it's all his fault, but does he care? No! Because he's dead! He wasn't even courteous to come back as a ghost, to choose to be a ghost, no, he went all the way with it! And he's gone! On purpose!"

Draco jumped to his feet too, voice rising to match hers. "You can't survive if you're in love with a ghost, Hermione! And you can't survive in love with a diary or a picture or a memory either! All we have is there here, Hermione! And the now! Today, this moment, it's so incredibly cliché and yet it's unfortunately true that all we have is right in front of us and there is a damn bit of good any of us can do to change that! I cannot wish my daughter back! You cannot write your boyfriend back! We cannot go back in time and undo the past! Slight alterations, maybe, but no time turner can bring the dead back to life! It can't be done! And all we have is what's left, the remains of Hogwarts, the remains of the Wizarding World, you and I and all the survivors, we're what's left! And there's no changing that."

Perhaps it was because his impassioned speech was one that would earn a Muggle actor a BAFTA, maybe it was all the emotion of the day, or maybe it was just something inside her that she could not explain or comprehend or put into words, but Hermione had never felt such a sense of…what?…in all her life. Love? Desire? A supreme connection to another human being? But whatever it was, it took over her entire mind and body, as she stepped forward and, placing her hand behind Draco's head, kissed him, allowing every bit of emotion and heartache and fear and compassion that was in her to flow into him.

He slid his arms around her waist and energetically returned the passionate kiss.

Moments later, they broke apart, ever so slightly gasping for air, and stared at each other for several minutes that felt like seconds and hours all at once.

"Draco," said she as he began to whisper, "Hermione?"

But neither could finish the sentence.

A few wordless moments later Hermione broke the silence. "Well…There's quite a bit of work to be done at Hogwarts still."

"Yes," agreed Draco, running a hand through his blond hair. "To Hogwarts then."

It was rather like a somber toast. She raised her deep brown eyes and looked straight into his pale gray ones. "To Hogwarts."

* * *

A/N So, what d'ya think? They're getting there, slowly and awkwardly and strangely passionately, but they're getting there…So… 

Please review…Thoughts, comments, likes, dislikes, ideas…Ideas are good, because I have some but they're a tad underdeveloped, and I've thrown out my plot line stuff that I had before because every time I write a new chapter I disregard it completely to the point where it no longer works at all with what I've written…so typical of me! LOL :)


	10. News From The Ministry

**Chapter 10: News From The Ministry**

Once back at Hogwarts the pair worked at a feverish pace. Soon, though, it was dark, and the day had yielded little important discoveries.

Hermione told Draco about how many people had come to help clean up Hogwarts just after the final battle a few short months ago. Seamus Finnigan and his wife, Esther, a Hufflepuff a year behind the Gryffindor Irishman. Lavender Brown and Padma Patil had offered their helpful but temporary services, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Blaise Zambini and Susan Bones had all been by, as well as a lot of people Hermione knew only by face or reputation, but not personally. Students before her, current students with their former housemates, even would-be future students and their parents.

But about eight or so weeks into the endeavor, the volunteers ceased their visits to the ruins, and Hermione was left to continue the work she felt somehow obligated to do.

And now she had Draco by her side.

* * *

Another two weeks came and went. Still no new discoveries. They had filled a large trunk with everything found in those two weeks, charred parchment, students' quills, a small, knitted hat Hermione recognized as one she herself had created in an attempt to free Hogwarts' house elves seven or so years ago. She realized that she could not stay in the Inn forever, and had begun looking for permanent residence, as had Draco, though neither one was actively pursuing many housing opportunities.

Hermione sighed as she rifled through the remaining debris. _Draco_.

She still could not believe how close they had grown, and in such a short time too. Their romantic relationship had progressed no further than that day when the two had sparred over Ron's memory and the significance of the "diary."

Except that they were sleeping in the same bed. Platonically, of course.

And except for the occasional comforting hug...or kiss...

Hermione picked a small box from the debris and sighed. Honestly, she did not know exactly how her relationship with Draco should be defined. Friendship? Dating? Were they dating?

She fingered the small golden latch on the box and her thoughts of Draco paused long enough for her to wonder if she could use magic to get the lock opened, or whether it would need to be jimmied the old-fashioned way. The old fashioned way? The Muggle way. The way she would have done everything had that letter the summer before she turned twelve never come.

She would have been a dentist, like her parents, of maybe a doctor. They always said she was smart enough to become a doctor. Maybe a Radiologist, or a Pediatrician, she had always been pretty good with the neighborhood kids, keeping an eye on them at the park and such.

"Alohomora," she said clearly, and the little lock sprung open. "Well, that was easy," she muttered, mentally noting that had she been a Radiologist, she would have had to jimmy it regardless of whether a spell would have done the trick. "Ha," she scoffed, "But if I had become a doctor, I seriously doubt I'd be spending my every waking hour cleaning up what remains of my former school."

"You say something, Hermione?" She heard Draco shout from about forty feet to her left. His voice echoed strangely against the silent afternoon.

"No, nothing!" She called back, gingerly prying open the locked box.

It was full of...Sherbet Lemons. Muggle candy, in a small, intricately detailed locked box? She shrugged her shoulders. Weird. She ran her fingers gently over its aged wood and examined every inch of it. Something about this box was somehow...comforting. When she opened it again, she poured a few of the candies into her hand, and could see part of an inscription at the bottom of the box. She poured the rest of the candy into her other hand. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," she read aloud. "Okay..." She put the candies back and was about to close the latch, when something above her caught her eye.

Just then the mournful silence was cut into again, this time by an owl, hooting softly as it flew over head. She followed it with her eyes as it landed on a pile of rubble in front of Draco and stuck out its foot. She jogged over to Malfoy as he was untying it and looking through his pockets for something to reward the animal with.

"Here," Hermione said, offering the box to it. It picked a candy up in it's beak, emitted a slightly muffled Hoot, and flew away. Hermione and Draco exchanged a look.

"Well," she began, closing the box and pocketing it. "What is it?"

He ran his fingers over the crest sealing the letter. "Its from the Ministry of Magic." He opened it and read aloud.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy,

We regret to inform you of the death of your ex-wife, Pansy Allyssa Parkinson Malfoy, a prisoner of Azkaban prison. We also more heartily inform you that, as she was dying, Ms. Parkinson revealed the whereabouts of the daughter you shared–" Stunned, the blond haired, gray eyed man could not continue.

Hermione reached for the letter, but Malfoy stopped her. "No," he said, voice cracking. "I need to read it for myself." A few moments later, he was ready to continue.

"The daughter you shared, three and one-half year old Kasia Luisa Parkinson Malfoy. She has been positively located and identified, and the Ministry asks that you attend a hearing on Monday, August the Nineteenth, to determine permanent placement for your child. It appears that Pansy, being the custodial parent post your divorce, relinquished the responsibility of the child Malfoy to Hannah-beth and Malachai Jugson, who will be pursuing permanent custody. Whether or not you wish to reclaim your child (now called Luisa Jugson) it is imperative you attend the Ministry hearing, Room number thirteen..." His voice trailed off.

"Jugson?" said Hermione. "We fought a Jugson in the Department of Mysteries, I think."

"Malachai's father was a Death Eater. He died a few months before the Final Battle. My cousin killed him."

"Tonks. I remember."

"They call her by her middle name." Malfoy still seemed frozen, despite the fact that he was speaking with Hermione. "The call her Luisa Jugson."

Hermione was surprised to see the tears form in Draco's eyes. Never, in her school years, would she have expected to see real, human emotion from Draco...and not once in the past few weeks had she seen him come anywhere close to tears. 'But why should I be surprised?' She thought in response. 'He's found his child, after all this time...He's found his child!'

"Draco, this is wonderful!" She exclaimed, clasping her hands together. But to her dismay, he shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't think I'm going to go...except maybe to...to turn over my parental rights."

"What! Draco, after all this time, you've been so worried about her, and now..."

"They call her Luisa Jugson. It's been seven months since I got divorced, and I only saw her twice between then and when Pansy went to Azkaban four months ago. Pansy kept us pretty well separated, and she managed to give Kasia away several weeks before the Ministry caught her. Kasia–Luisa–whatever she thinks her name is, she won't even _remember _me!"

"Three year olds have better memories than you'd think! And it's only been a few months, I'm sure she's been wondering about where you've been just as much as you've been worrying about her! I can't live your life for you, and I certainly can't tell you what to do, but I think you owe it to both Kasia and yourself to at least go there and see her. If you don't do it for the two of you, then do it for Neville. Do it for George Weasley. Do it for all the children like Ella, and Frankie and George's son Jordan, all those kids who will never get the chance to see their Daddies again!"

"You're really a good speaker, Hermione. I'm starting to believe what they always said about you." He folded the letter and put in the pocket of his robes.

"What's that?"

He managed a weak smile. "You really are the brightest witch of our age."

* * *

A/N: I updated! Wowzers, this fic has given me some mega grief. I have so much trouble updating, figuring out where to go and what to do next, but you know what? I think I'm finally back on track. I really like this little chapter, and I hope you all do too. I plan to Update more often now that I have an idea of where I'm going to go and how I'm going to end this, but PLEASE review and give me ANY ideas you might have, I assure you, it would really, really help. I'm going away from Thursday until Tuesday, but I hope to update again soon after I get back, because I've already started the next chapter, and that's a good thing. :) So, please read and review, and maybe I'll give YOU a lemon drop too!

PS: Kasia is pronounced "Kaah-Shuh." It's the name of a classmate of mine, and I really like it. :)


	11. Kasia Luisa Malfoy

**Chapter 11: Kasia Luisa Malfoy**

August eighteenth seemed to last a lifetime before finally giving way to the nineteenth, the day of the hearing to determine where Kasia Luisa Malfoy (Jugson) should call her permanent residence. Draco asked Hermione to accompany him to the hearing, despite her worries that a new girlfriend ("if that is what I am,") might not exactly be the best way to show the Wizengamot's Family Services Department that he should be the person to raise Kasia..

"Hey," he had joked, "Maybe we should just get married, and then I can show them a perfect two-parent family, complete with it's own Auror."

Hermione had simply nodded in response. "That may not be a bad idea."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't mean about getting married or anything, but for me to be there, well, maybe it will just plant the idea of a two-parent family in their minds, and that will be good. They like things like that. And, as you said, I am an Auror, and I think that I am relatively well liked and respected among the members of the Wizengamot, Ministy officials and the Family Service's Department. I worked with them awhile back, actually, on a couple of cases. Removing children from houses where dangerous or dark magic was being practiced. And they stepped in during the Ella Longbottom case."

"Oh, great," he had replied sarcastically. "Maybe I should tell them about my involvement with that; I'm sure they'll be terribly impressed."

But that was yesterday, the eighteenth.

And today is the nineteenth.

"Draco!" Hermione called into the bedroom where Malfoy was changing into his most professional robes.

"You can come in," he said, and she entered to find him in his best robes, dark green, combing his short, pale blond hair.

"You look nice," said Hermione, leaning against the door frame with a smile on her face. "Are you nervous?"

"Me? Nervous? Not at all!"

"Really?"

"Really? No. I'm wicked bloody nervous."

Hermione laughed. "It will all work out. I just know it. Trust me?"

Draco sighed. "You know I do."

They arrived at the Ministry of Magic and Hermione dialed the numbers that granted them entrance, 62442.

"Why six-two-four-four-two?" Draco asked as they were traveling all the way down to the ministry's bottom.

"It took me a little time to figure it out too. On a muggle telephone, each button has a number, zero through nine, and each number has three or four letters. The letters M-A-G-I-C are on the numbers 62442."

Draco grinned at this bit of info, and the butterflies in his stomach subsided just a little. "It's like magic," said he, to which she replied, "just like."

Upon reaching their stop, Draco and Hermione put on their clearance badges (Guardianship Hearing, they read) and continued down the hall to the appropriate room. Draco was seated next to his representative (each side was permitted one person, very much like a Muggle lawyer, to speak on his or her behalf).

The Jugsons were there too of course, a little girl with pale gray eyes and a long, blonde ponytail sitting between them.

"There she is," Draco whispered to Hermione as he took as seat next to his representative. Hermione sat behind him, where guests were permitted to be. She noticed that Hannah-beth Jugson shot her a dirty look, but she ignored it. The members of the Wizengamot were already seated and waiting, and once Draco took his seat the proceedings began. The Wizengamot introduced themselves each one in turn, followed by the junior secretary to the Minister of Magic, who stood up and spoke last.

"Marietta Ellington, here on behalf of the Ministry. I will be presiding over the proceedings, though the decision is ultimately up to the Wizengamot."

'Like a judge and jury,' Hermione mentally noted, before realizing something else...Marietta Ellington looked an awful lot like...

Oh no.

Hermione had indeed met that curly haired girl before...Silently she prayed that Marietta would not recall her time in the DA at Hogwarts...and the unlucky way she was punished for telling on Harry and the others...'She must have gotten married,' thought Hermione, 'because that is most certainly her.'

Meanwhile, Draco was barely paying any attention to the young, curly haired witch at all. He was busy staring at the child to the left of the aisle beside him. His child. She still had that baby-nose, the little tiny one Pansy had never quite grown out of. She was rather tiny, but healthy looking nonetheless.

"Names for the record?" Marietta was saying. The representative nudged Draco.

"Draco Malfoy." He stood as he introduced himself.

"Malachai Jugson."

"Hannah-beth Jugson."

Marietta nodded, and the short, Asian witch to her right jotted it all down on parchment.

"And the child?"

"Luisa Jugson," said Malachai at the same moment Draco stated, "Kasia Malfoy."

Marietta glanced at the Asian witch, who shrugged.

"Ask the child," suggested one of the Wizengamot members.

"But if the child has been brainwashed..." began another. (The Jugsons looked highly affronted by this).

"I say," interrupted another member, "make her use her proper name, her birth name."

Marietta held up a hand to silence them. "Child, what is your name?"

The little girl was silent, but her eyes grew very wide.

"Child! Speak to us when spoken to! Have you any manners!"

The little girl shrugged.

"Child!"

"You're scaring her!" Draco suddenly snapped, and Marietta's mouth dropped open.

"Excuse me," said she, "but speaking out of turn–"

"Made perfect sense in this instance," supplied an elderly woman on the Wizengamot. "The child is obviously frightened and confused, and her father can see that. You will understand some day, Marietta, when you are a mother."

Marietta's cheeks flushed bright red at this, and she sat down. "Very well. Let the further questioning begin."

It lasted nearly two hours, and even Hermione was questioned. They asked both Malachai and Draco about their past as Death Eaters–Jugson denied ever having followed Voldemort ("I am not my father," he explained) but Draco was honest about joining...and quitting. He told them about his work as a spy for the Order and the side of the light, and revealed quite a bit about his childhood in Malfoy manner, his marriage to Pansy, and their divorce. Hermione was proud of him for keeping his composure. She talked about not getting along with Draco in school, about meeting up with him again at Hogwarts, and admitted to the slight progression of their relationship, though she left out the bit about their current co-habitation.

Draco explained that he had obtained residence (an apartment in London) just eight days prior to the hearing, and he assured them that with two bedrooms, one bath, a kitchen, and a sitting room, the house was plenty big enough for a man and his daughter.

Finally, it was put to a vote.

"Who here believes," started Marietta Ellington, "that the child Malfoy should be left in the care of Hannah-beth and Malachai Jugson?"

Three people raised their hands.

"Who here believe that the child Malfoy shall be returned to her father, Draco Malfoy?"

Two hands...three...four...seven...twelve...Pretty soon, all but the three voting for the Jugsons had their hands in the air.

"Undecided?"

No one.

"The child Kasia Luisa Parkinson Malfoy is hereby returned to her biological father, Draco Malfoy. Mr. and Mrs. Jugson, you have two weeks to return any personal effects of the child not purchased by yourselves. Thank you all on behalf of the Wizengamot and the family services department. Have a loverly afternoon."

Hermione was grinning. She watched from her seat as Draco was handed his daughter by the Jugson's representative. "Hello there, Kasia," Hermione heard Draco say.

Kasia threw her arms around his neck. Apparently, she did remember him, for then she said, "Hello Daddy."

* * *

A/N

I am so, so sorry about my lack of updating. I had an idea, I was so excited, I tried several times to write it, and it never worked out, so I brought us straight to the hearing instead. Only one or two chapters after this, and probably an epilogue. I am also sorry this has taken me so long...I had never written Draco/Hermione before, and I don't think I ever will again, because it was simply too difficult for me...I hope those of you who continued reading the story anyway liked in despite my infrequent updates...I will try to make the last few chapters closer together (update-wise). Thanks for reviewing, and feel free to check out my other fics! I've got a Snape one on hold, an ADMM one I update rather often, and a Severus/Hermione one-shot I'm rather fond of, among others. Thanks!


	12. The Last Piece

**The Last Piece**

A/N: This is not cannon with Half-Blood Prince.

* * *

"When will that bloody owl get here? I can't stand the wait any longer!" Exclaimed Draco as he paced back and forth across the kitchen, a half eaten piece of toast in one hand.

Hermione laughed as she settled herself in a chair by the table. "Calm down, Draco. Be patient."

"Patience has never been one of my best qualities," he admitted, and this also made her chuckle.

"Then it is a good thing that you have other qualities to make up for it," she said, and then suddenly she exclaimed, "Oh!"

"What the matter, Hermione?" asked Draco, worried, rushing to her side (not that he had far to rush; it was a small kitchen).

Smiling, Hermione simply waved him away and placed a hand on her enlarged midsection. "Just a rather sharp kick, Draco, nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We just went through this two years ago when your son was born. And I am pretty sure that you went through the same thing nine years before that, before Kasia was born. I'll be fine."

Draco relaxed a little, but resumed pacing. "Where is that owl already?"

The words were barely out of his mouth when his question was answered. A handsome barn owl flew through the window. Around his neck he wore a tiny, almost unnoticeable pendant bearing the crest of the New Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione untied the letter from the owl's leg and handed it to Draco. "You do the honors, sir."

Nodding, he unrolled the parchment and began reading. A second or two later, his face burst into a huge grin. Hermione was relatively sure that she hadn't seen such a smile on his lips since the birth of his son.

"Well?" she asked.

"She's in Ravenclaw. 'It is out pleasure to inform you that your child, Kasia Luisa Parkinson Malfoy, has been properly sorted into the Ravenclaw house. You should be both pleased and proud. It has taken a decade to restore the school, and your child is one of forty-six first-years who make up the first class of students to attend all seven years at New Hogwarts. There are twelve Ravenclaws, twelve Hufflepuffs, eleven Gryffindors, and eleven Syltherins. Also starting this year are 32 second-years, 30 third-years, 24 fourth-years, 19 fifth-years, 12 sixth-years, and 10 seventh-years. As you were informed in your 'what to buy' and acceptance letters, New Hogwarts will try to maintain the dignity, intelligence, honor, and respect of the former Hogwarts, but with greater emphasis placed on unity, acceptance, and friendship. There will still be one female and one male pre-fect from each house fifth year and over, and students will room with their fellow house-mates, but Quiddich teams (there will be four) will be made up of students from all four houses together.Thank you for your support of New Hogwarts.

Sincerely, Headmaster Harry Potter."

"How that bloke managed to become Headmaster after going of the deep end like that..." Said Draco, a hint of disgust creeping into his voice.

"He had to find himself, Draco, you know that. He was going through such an intense personal battle, and he had to decide which part of himself was going to win, the Dumbledorian-Gryffindor, or the Voldemort-Slytherin. And in the end, the better half one, I must say. Er...no offense to the Slytherins, of course."

Draco tried to look angry with Hermione, but failed. "Oh, I suppose neither of us won the bet though, eh? She's not in Slytherin or Gryffindor."

"Our son will be in Gryffindor," she said, teasingly, but before he could retort a loud wail sounded from the bedroom.

"Someone's awake," said Draco, and Hermione started to get slowly up from her chair.

"No, love, you stay here. I'll get him."

A few minutes later, clean and changed and in a good mood, two-year old Granger Malfoy burst into the kitchen, his father close behind him.

"Mum!" called the little boy, throwing himself around her legs. She grinned at him, and Draco lifted him to sit on the table in front of his mother.

The little boy was not pale, like Draco, but he did have his father's light blond hair. He had Hermione's large brown eyes, which made for quite the combination. He was a handsome, intelligent child, but much noisier and more talkative than his sister had been.

"Mum, me wants cookie?" Hermione was happy to summon on from the cupboard and give it to the baby.

"There's a list of faculty with this letter,"said Draco, reading it over. "Interesting. Binns is first, and he's still History of Magic. You reckon he even noticed the school was closed for ten-odd years?"

"May I see?" asked Hermione, and he handed the list to her.

"I know nearly all of these people. Dennis Creevey: Muggle Studies, I remember him. Fleur Delacour: International Relations...well, that's new. Athena Pasiakos, from Greece, Potions. I don't know her. Melinda Bobbin, Nurse. Gewnog Jones, Assistant Flying Instructor. Rolanda Hooch, Flying Instructor. Cicely Sinistra, Astronomy. Pomona Sprout, herbology. Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures! Oh, good! Sibyll Trelawny, Divination, as if they still need that awful...well, I suppose it's nice for her to be employed again. Hershal Vector, arithmancy, he was teaching before too. And...Oh! Oh, my!"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and Draco was confused. He had only skimmed the list, not really read it, but he didn't know why she should cry about it, unless she was simply upset about al those who could no longer be teaching.

"Under these, the last three, Transfiguration: Terry Boot, and Alicia Spinnet doing charms, it has Defense Against the Dark Arts: Ginerva Weasley."

Draco's eyes widened. "Ginny? But I thought...I mean, I know they released her, but is she really capable of...?"

Hermione shrugged. "I supposed she must be. She has been improving remarkably well since Harry returned for good, three years ago. I suppose...He must feel she's...ready. Well, good. Maybe they'll get married. It also says here that she's Deputy Headmistress."

"It's amazing how things change, isn't it, love?" he said softly, placing a light kiss on her lips.

"Amazing," she agreed, and pulled him back for a longer, more passionate snog.

"Mum?" asked baby Granger a moment later, tugging on his mother's shirt. "Me mo' cookie?"

Hermione started to answer him, but gasped instead. "I think that cookie will have to wait, angel. I do believe my water's just broke."

* * *

A/N

Wow. If anyone is still reading this, I am so, so sorry. Like I said, I have never tried writing Draco/Hermione before, and I am NOT good at it, but at least I tried, right? (lol) I experienced HUGE mental blocks regarding this whole thing, which is why, this morning, I just decided I'd skip some time and finish the fic. I hope that, despite the infrequent updates, the lack of explanations and the barely-there romance, you enjoyed the little ending anyway. Thanks for reading! And please drop me a line (ie, review) letting me know what I could/should have done differently, what I could/should do in the future, that sort of thing. Thanks!

PS Except for the Greek one, all the new professors are real HP characters...recognize them:-)

AL


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